The Letter
by TLN
Summary: There is a letter we never got to read... A letter Booth never got to read but that we guessed, was for him.


**The Letter**

_**Disclaimer: It's gonna be 4 months? Well then, so be it. In this case I don't have to say that all this belongs to whoever wrote the last episode aired on FOX, right:p Naaaah, ok, it still belongs to them all guys. I hope everyone agrees on something soon, so that we can have our "Baby in the Bough", our "Wannabe in the Weeds" and all the unwritten but yet awaited episodes involving fluffy scenes at the diner and subconscious realization of their shared feeling and desire to experience inter-fusion.  
This fiction is based on "Aliens in a Spaceship" and thus, the Gravedigger. Let's say that, since it was gathered knowledge that he'd return some day, I thought that I could try and solve the issues left unsolved -purposely, should I add, if only this episode could actually be written before we all turn to dust.  
I hope you enjoy, and resist the terrible urge to re-watch old episodes like maniacs, in the dark silently cursing those who prevent you from getting your dose :p  
Oh, and, yes, this is only one thing. The title is self explanatory. It's a one shot and the main narrative is going to be epistolary.  
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When he opened the envelope, he was surprised to find three sheets of paper torn from a book, filled with neat lines of black ink -on both sides. Not a note, it was a letter. A very long letter.  
He recognized the writing instantly and got scared. What had happened? 

_Booth,  
_

_Why am I writing you this when I know you will never read it? Hodgins told me I should say goodbye, in case the explosives we are using to blow our way out turned our brains into jelly -which is a probability considering the fact that we have no idea about how deep we are buried- but I have this feeling. Before you I never said that. I have this feeling that you are close from finding me and that thus, there is no way God would have let us being buried too deep for you to find me. Why do I believe that Booth? How can I? Those are conjectures, unfounded allegations.  
Yet I believe. Hodgins told me I had faith in you. I said it was not faith, but a simple recollection of all the previous situations in which you had done the right thing. You always do the right thing. Is this an objective statement? Or a subjective appreciation? Am I really projecting that faith I am supposed to have in you? Maybe I am. If I am then I will not be sorry for it. I could never be sorry for that.  
I am thankful for it, Booth. You know why? Because it is the best present I have ever been offered. I can deny it, I can fight against it; I need faith. I need it now. And I have it because of you.  
So for this, and all the other things you gave me this past year, I want to thank you. I promise I will tell you this when we get out of here. I promise.  
I want to see you again. I wish we could have dinner again together like we used to. I say this as if it were past, but we had dinner together three days ago. It seems like it was ten years ago.  
Everything with you seems like it was ten years ago. As if you had always been here, in my life. Have you always been there, Booth?  
I know this is a silly question to ask because obviously you were not there ten years ago. But it feels as though. You see? You taught me this too. You gave me this and I never gave you anything in return. I wish I could give you something as important as that. Faith, feelings. What could be as important to you? Arithmetics? Science? This is all I know.  
I know. When I get out of here, I promise I will try to know more about all the things that are important to you. All the things we always fight about. Yet I like our fights. Angela would probably say this is some sort of metaphorical expression of our mutual attraction. I never believed in that. Well, actually I happened to question myself about it several times. I am wondering if you ever did. Did you ever see me as anything else than your partner? Your friend?  
I am sorry for asking you this. I should keep it to myself. Everyone fantasizes, this is part of the human psyche. And as I spend half of my time with you, you are the male reference in my life. Right? That explains why I always compared my boyfriends to you in the past. I shouldn't. They rarely seem good enough.  
I am not trying to compliment you, Booth. I am merely stating a fact. You are a very good breeder in appearance and I have no doubts you have all the attributes, physically and psychologically, to satisfy a woman in every way.  
I envy Cam. Once again, I know I shouldn't. But I cannot help it. Did you ever envy the men I was with? Not that they were any sort of competition to you but, I was just wondering. I think too much. But what else could I possibly be doing in here?  
I am running out of paper. I will take another page of my book. This is funny, don't you think? I wanted to make a surprise to you. I dedicated my new book to you. I did not want to tell you and if you don't find me, you will know when it is too late. It was not supposed to be like this. This is not going to be like this, right? You will find me? Will you hug me?  
I don't want to sound too bossy, but you had better give me a real big guy-hug when you find me. I need it. Not that I am scared, but I miss you. I can miss you, right? Am I allowed to? You are my partner, I have the right to wait for your arrival, to hope for it. I always do anyway, allowed or not. I like it when you come to my office to take me out for lunch, when we gather our notes together.  
Before you, I liked to be alone. I prefer being alone with you now. Is this silly? I don't care if it is. It just is.  
I cannot believe I am writing you all this. Hodgins is dozing again. I had to perform surgery on his leg, I did not tell him but I almost passed out. Am I weak? I know you will tell me I am not, you will tell me I am human. And once again I will have to tell you that you are responsible for it. It is not a reproach, of course, rather a another example of what you changed in my life without me realizing it.  
If I never got out of here -yet I cannot let myself believe it- I want you to know that you are the most important person in my life. This is not a testament. This is not a goodbye. Once again, this is a fact. Something I need you to know.  
I hope I will see you again. Oh, God no, now I am crying. This is irrational. What am I crying for? I cannot understand. Is this like Hodgins? Is there this weight on my mind, this thing I have to get out of my head? There is not, I told you everything I wanted you to know. Hodgins... told me he was in love with Angela. He said he had to say it in case something happened to him. I, of course, do not imply I am in love with you. I am not. You are my best friend, my partner. But something is missing. It must be the lack for oxygen, I am not coherent anymore. I should stop writing and start to work on our way out.  
Booth, if something happens to me, will you do what you asked me to do on my mother's grave? Will you come and talk to me? No, I should stop this. You will get me out. You will. I know you are on your way to find me. You received this message, you deciphered it. It was for Zack, you figured that out and you are on your way. I have faith in you. And once you find me, I will let you know._

_Yours always,_

_Bones._

He couldn't breath. He hadn't stopped reading until this final word "Bones". She had signed with the nickname he had given her. It seemed pointless to give importance to this after all the things she had told him but to him, it was the ultimate sign of a change. A change he had thought to be his only.  
A year ago, he had felt like dying, helpless, trying to figure out a way to save her, to see her again. Every word she had written, every word, he had had in mind too. And yet he had never told her. Like she had never told him.  
And everything was written there, on these three sheets of paper carelessly torn from her book. She had kept it all along, put it in an envelope and sent it to him. Why now? To tell him she loved him? To tell him she was scared of the gravediggers' return? He would have to ask her. But he was afraid to.  
He knew how to read people, he knew how to reassure her when she was scared but he didn't know how to put words on his feelings. Well, he knew, but he didn't know if she would accept it or not. Maybe it was worth a try... He'd have to think about it.

_**The End**_


End file.
